January 17, 2008

Inky, Blinky, Pinky, and CLYDE! Clyde.


Which were actually nicknames. Their given names were Bashful, Shadow, Speedy, and Pokey respectively.

Or, in Japan: Kimagure, Oikake, Machibuse, and Otoboke.

Man, that was really bugging me. Thank god for the internet. Delivering useless information worldwide on demand.

January 13, 2008

Another week, another broken resolution. Why keep resolutions when breaking them is this much fun?

Just For Skotty Made-To-Break Resolution Moment(TM)

Week Two

I could run this like an essay on Why I Love Catherine. One of the best reasons I can think of at present is her method of interrogation which my friend and I were discussing in admiration just today. How do you get an already incarcerated criminal to talk to you? You could ask nicely. And go away empty-handed. Or you could take a page from the Catherine Willows Handbook. Observe.



Catherine: There was a murder that was committed in Vegas two days before the Acheson/Curtis murders. I think the same person committed both crimes and I think that person is you.
Guffy: *shrugs*
Catherine: Mr. Guffy, this is how this is going to work. Every time you answer one of my questions I unbutton a button. Are you ready?
Guffy: Does that count as a question?
Catherine: *unbuttons one button*



She doesn't play by the rulebook, that's for sure. She sort of goes with her gut instincts and isn't afraid to use (or flaunt) her sexuality to get her way in a case. I love her sass. And if I'm strictly honest, if she offered to unbutton a button every time I answered one of her questions I'd tell her anything she wanted to know. ANYTHING.

Better luck next week with keeping my vow of Catherine-related silence, I guess.
*smirk*
Somewhere in the hidden binary fields of our multi-faceted data storage facilities, the things I really want to watch are gamboling about like spring lambs with tails. Navigating through the varied external hard drive levels of storage* via the Xbox is a lot like playing Pac-Man blind. How in HELL am I supposed to find anything? With the ghosts in the way and shit...

What were their names again? Inky, Blinky, Pinky and... Rudolph?

*Note: nothing has been illegally downloaded. Not ever. Not even once. I am totally saying everything has been fully legally purchased and is just STORED, for the sake of posterity and shelf space, in the inter-ether of File City.

I digress. Though, topically, I hear it's now considered against the law to rip your own legally purchased CDs into MP3 format in order to listen to them on your ipod, iriver, Nomad Jukebox, (insert music medium of choice here). It's like living in a fucking POLICE STATE! What do you mean I can't put legally purchased music on my Nomad? That's like saying it's against the law to put your own personal photos in albums for easier viewing. No, you need to BUY THAT RIGHT. Albums go against everything photographs stand for, you know that.

Is it possible that the more technologically advanced we become, the more we regress in terms of freedom? Witness the virtual hours I lose looking for things stored in the rings of hell known as our computer system. And the lawsuits against music downloaders. And the illegality of translating your own stuff into formats easier to carry around. I wonder if all this gadgetry isn't just sealing our doom, collectively speaking?

It's just a theory. You know, talk amongst yourselves and the like.

I need a bowl of Count Chocula. Blogging about real life is draining. I far prefer posts about CSI. Speaking of which, tomorrow is a brand new week! WOOT! Something to look forward to, SKOTTY. xx